Slaughterhouse-Five

by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

The nicest veterans in Schenectady, I thought, the kindest and funniest ones, the ones who hated war the most, were the ones who’d really fought.

“Von der Kuppel der Frauenkirche sah ich diese leidigen Trümmer zwischen die schöne

städtische Ordnung hineingesät; da rühmte mir der Küster die Kunst des Baumeisters, welcher Kirche und Kuppel auf einen so unerwünschten Fall schon eingerichtet und bombenfest erbaut hatte. Der gute Sakristan deutete mir alsdann auf Ruinene nach allen Seiten und sagte bedenklich lakonisch: Das hat der Feind gethan!”

And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.

I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee.

I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.

There was nothing I could do about it. As an Earthling, I had to believe whatever clocks said—and calendars.